


Old Vows

by SilverSunrise



Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bisexual Male Character, Disabled Character, Disaster Gays, Drug Withdrawal, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Gay Character, Guns, Heist, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Maybe mild smut later idk, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Past Drug Addiction, Pining, Sexual Tension, Suicide Attempt, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSunrise/pseuds/SilverSunrise
Summary: Sometimes it's hard to give up old habits.Former FBI consultant Conley Reed and ex-CIA agent Michael Vincent haven't worked together since The Accident and they don't ever intend to again. That changes when Conley uncovers a dangerous plot to blow up the United Nations Headquarters and call Michael in on the case.Emotions flare, old memories are drudged up, and old feelings take on new meaning as Conley and Michael try to work together, just this one last time.Based off prompt #1350 from promptsforthestrugglingauthor on Tumblr"'I thought you said you wanted to grow out of your old habits and become a better person.""I did, and I will, but not right now, so give me the goddamn bomb and let me do things my way one last time.'"
Relationships: Conley Reed (OC)/Michael Vincent (OC), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on AO3. Please read the tags as this does get really dark. Enjoy!

We’re meeting in a bar. That’s what’s supposed to happen, anyways.

I know I said that last time would be the last. I know that this is bad, that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop. That smile, the dark eyes. He’s impossible to stay away from. I blame the heroin. He got me off it, but I wasn’t clean. I just had a new addiction. Danger and that smile. And now I’m here again, resisting the call of the tequila just behind the counter, hands shaking around the offer he wouldn’t resist. 

He wouldn’t. He’ll be here. I know it. He can’t turn it down. He can’t turn me down. He won’t. I know I’m lying to myself and I don’t care. I order the tequila. He’ll be here. 

It’s an hour past the time we were set to meet. I must look hopeless. The bartender knows I’ve been stood up. I poured it all out to her, made it seem like he was an old boyfriend. She slid me an extra shot, on the house. I should arrange meetings like this more often. I don’t feel well. It might be the tequila. It might be because he’s not coming. It might be because I’m a damned fool, pining after someone I can’t have. Or maybe I’m just after the danger, the shot of adrenaline. Maybe I’m not in love with him. Maybe it’s just a connection formed, the shot of adrenaline and that smile, mixing into one. A positive connotation, that’s it. I chase the thrill, the boost, and I’ve been around him and that smile so often when I get it that they are one and the same now. That’s why I’m sitting here now, drunk in a dive bar. Waiting for someone who isn’t coming. 

“Conley,” he says and something stabs sharp into my heart. 

“Michael,” I say, and I mean “I love you.” I don’t turn around. I can’t. All this tequila and I might do something stupid when I see that smile on his face. Like kiss him. Or stab him. 

“I thought we weren’t on speaking terms anymore,” he says and I know we’re both thinking of last time. Last time, when I screwed it up. Last time, when he left me in a bar just like this one. Last time, when I cried into 4 consecutive whiskey neats and wished he hadn’t saved me.

I finally look at him, turning on my barstool. He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful but he takes my breath away like this, in the low, golden light. Michael. It means “he who is of god” and he might not be an angel but he is straight from heaven. A brilliant, torturous heaven, because I can’t have him, because I’ve sunk so low as begging him to meet me for one last job.

“You know I’ve given this life up,” he says and I know that, I know that, and I also know that I will never believe it. 

“One last job, Michael. This one is something.” He’ll say no and I’ll beg, on my knees if I have to, and he’ll say no again and leave me here.

“I don’t care. I’m done. Or do you not remember how we ended last time?” His voice is cold and commanding and I know that he knows I remember, better even then him.

“Just hear me out. Just once more. You can say no, you can walk away, but just listen.” I think I might go jump in the Hudson if he says no.

“Fine,” he says and I think I might kiss him but I can’t because it’s him. It’s Michael and he’s not mine. He’ll never be mine. 

I hold the thing up, the thing I nearly died for, just so I can nearly die for it again with him at my side. So we can just manage to save each other once more. Once more before I let it end like it should have, so long ago when he pulled me out of the heroin den. 

“A thumb drive?” he says, one eyebrow raised and I think _Just let me die_ because it’s the exact face he had when I was in withdrawal, in one of the lucid periods, when I screamed at him to kill me. _Just let me die._ But he didn’t. And he won’t now. 

“We should go somewhere more private,” I say. What’s on that drive is dangerous and I won’t put civilians at risk. Not again. “There’s a safehouse not far off.”

He leans back in that way I could never manage on a barstool, cool and confident and deadly. “Convince me,” he says. “Why should I want to know what’s on that drive?”

I don’t know how to answer without losing him. I don’t know how to tell him what it means to me. 

“There’s a United Nations gala and a planned terrorist attack. That’s all I can say here.” And even that is too much. Michael sighs and he’s going to say no, I can feel it. 

“I’m listening,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated and if you see any typos or grammatical errors, let me know so I can fix them!


	2. Chapter 2

I tell him everything once we’re at the safehouse. It’s a basic place, bare essentials only. I’ve never had to use it for longer than a few hours and I’m glad of it. Bare essentials is only a cot, a tiny table, and a stock of MREs and I’m used to slightly more comfort. 

Michael has his laptop, because of course he does and I watch, mesmerised, as those long fingers break the encryption on the thumb drive. It’s long been a game of ours, me encrypting the drive or the files before giving them to him. He’s always been a better hacker than me and it doesn’t take long for him to have the encryption cracked and the information out in the open. I wish I was better at coding just so I could watch him at work longer.

“Conley,” he says, and I realize it isn’t the first time he’s said it.

“Trescothik Industries. They’re a shell company for chiefly money laundering and assassination. They’re pretty much contractors for just about anything illegal you need done. On the front, they manufacture parts for mobile devices. As far as I can tell, they actually have a few legitimate factories but most of it is a cover.” His eyes go dark just at the mention of the name Trescothik and for good reason. Jacob Trescothik is the reason he wakes up screaming at night. I found that out after we had to share a hotel room for a job and ended up holding him as he told me why he no longer had a twin or a left leg below the knee. 

“Tomorrow night, at the United Nations headquarters, there’s a gala. All sorts of environmental activists and country leaders will be there. The following day, there will be a conference and a new Green Deal will be signed, except if we do nothing, there won’t be one. They are going to plant bombs at the gala and even if they don’t kill everyone inside, there will most certainly be war. I know where they’ve set up base. I know exactly what they’re planning. All we have to do is infiltrate the gala, disarm the bombs and make sure whoever T. Industries sent in clears out.” I avoid actually saying “Trescothik” because I can’t bear to see the look of pain on his face again. I’m definitely still too drunk to be alone in a room with him because I want to kiss him again. 

“Why not call in the police?” he asks. “I’m sure the NYPD would be happy to have their little moment of glory.” 

“Two reasons. I’m sure you’ve already come up with both of them and then some and just want to hear me try to convince you but in case you haven’t. One, the police will take an eternity and a half to muck about with paperwork and will cause all sorts of messes trying to sort this one thing out. Two, the conference will be canceled and there will be no new Green Deal. You know even better than me that we need a new Deal yesterday if we want a planet for the next generations.” It’s true. He was an analyst in the CIA up until 2 years ago after they declared him unfit for fieldwork following the loss of his leg. I always thought that was ridiculous. You can’t tell he’s got a prosthetic unless he takes it off.

“Conley, you know I’m retired from this kind of stuff,” he says, and he’s reluctant. He wants to help me. Something’s stopping him, though and I couldn’t say what if my life was on the line.

“Michael, just once more. I won’t ask again.”

“You will,” he says softly. “You always do.” He pauses, not for long, but long enough that I know what’s coming next.

“What about last time? I’m too old to keep saving your ass after you screw up.” I flinch, even though I’m expecting it. I know I fucked up, badly too. It burns at me every day and I want to tell him but I don’t.

“This won’t be like last time. It’s not even similar. We’re both on familiar grounds and there won’t be any civs involved.” It comes out sharper than I mean it too. “Besides, you’re only 38. You’re plenty young enough to drag me out of trouble a few more times.” I mean it as a joke, but it doesn’t quite come out right and we sit there in silence for what feels like forever. 

“Fine,” he says at last and the tension leaves me all in a rush. “I’ll do it, but this is the last time. And I expect you to drag your own ass out of trouble, so be careful not to dig your grave too deep. 

“Thank you,” I say, and when our eyes meet, I think that he understands everything I mean by it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated and if you see any typos or grammatical errors, let me know so I can fix them!


	3. Chapter 3

I tell him everything about my plan, or at least the working draft I’m trying to make look like a plan. 

“See that construction sight there?” I point at the map I’ve spread out on the table. “I don’t know what they’re supposed to be building but I do know that they’ve set up camp there. It’s so close to the United Nations building that it’s absolutely perfect. I’d pick it for sure if it was me plotting to start a war by blowing up part of UN headquarters.”

“It really is perfect,” Michael says, head cocked slightly to one side, his thinking face on. “A viable reason to keep the public out, no one gets suspicious if you have people coming in and out with big vehicles that could plausibly be carrying either bombs or construction equipment. There’s not a lot of cover, but with a plan like that you wouldn’t need it. Set up three days beforehand to prep, run operations from where backup can easily be sent in, be out in minutes. Could even use some of the construction equipment to knock the place down and get rid of the evidence.” 

“It works in our favor, too," I add. “When it comes time to drive them off, all we have to do is wreck their operations center. They’re hired guns. They haven’t got any skin in the game, not really. After they’ve made an attempt to complete their job, it won’t be hard to drive them off. A couple warning shots should be all we need.” He’s still studying the map with a kind of intensity that means he’s planning something. 

“Have you got a place for us to set up base?” he asks slowly.

I hesitate for just a moment because Michael doesn’t approve of nice things on a job. If he had his way, every time we did a job we’d set up base in a safehouse just like this and spend our nights on poured concrete floors, eating things even worse than public school lunches. 

“The Millennium Hilton. It’s right across from the UN and it's the sort of place environmental experts from New Zealand would be staying.” 

“New Zealand?” he asks, looking up from the map at last. 

“We can both put on the accent convincingly enough and they aren’t sending any actual environmental experts so all we'll have to do is avoid Prime Minister Ardern. She hasn't got a delegation and she’s always quite noticeable, so it shouldn’t be too hard to do. Then once we’re in, I have a good idea of the location of the bombs, so we just have to disarm them.” Michael is eyeing me now and I’m trying not to squirm under his gaze. I know my plan sounds far too oversimplified but I’m still too drunk to go into more detail. The tequila is wearing off but it’s still taking over half of my brain power to keep my thoughts from wandering back to how beautiful he looked in that bar and how good it is to see him again. 

“Okay,” he says and I’m too surprised to speak. Michael never just agrees to anything. “Okay,” he repeats. “We follow your plan but on one condition. You understand that this is the last time and that I won’t be doing any shooting. After last time, I’ve decided that I’m not going to be the bad guy any more. No more shooting, no more planting bombs, even if it’s the terrorists we’re trying to hurt.”

“Why?” I ask, before I can realize it’s a bad idea. Damn tequila. 

His eyes flash dark again and I know I’ve made a mistake. 

“Because,” he says slowly, “Every time I start shooting, someone innocent gets hurt. Sometimes it’s a bystander. Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s-” he cuts himself off before he can say her name and I know we both feel the knife in our hearts twist as we think of her. Sometime I wonder if it hurts me more than it hurts him, because it was my fault if it was anyone’s, but when I look at him, I know I’m wrong. 

“If I try to, you pull me out.” His voice is fierce and demanding. “You stop me and you finish on your own. I will not break my vow. I cannot let someone else get hurt. Swear it. Swear to me that you won’t let me do anything stupid. I have to stop hurting people.”

He’s so damn intense it’s mesmerizing and my voice comes out just a little breathless as I say, “I swear it.” 

“Good,” he mutters, and the spell breaks. I feel as if I’ve just been pulled out of water and I suck in a deep breath. “What gear will I need?” he asks, as if he hasn’t just halfway drowned me then brought me right back again.

“I’ve... I’ve already got everything. It’s all in the SUV, ready to go.” 

“That the same SUV you named Lucky then proceeded to get 17 tickets for speeding in?” 

I feel my neck go a little warm at that. “I thought we agreed not to speak of the Lucky incident,” I say.

“ _ Incidents _ ,” he stresses, teasing, and just for a moment it feels just like the old times when there wasn’t this terrible tension between us and I cling onto that feeling.

“I renamed him and I haven’t had a single ticket since!” I protest. 

“What’s its name now?” he asks, eyes sparkling with a light I’ve missed so much it hurts to see it now. 

“ _ His  _ name is Michael,” I say without thinking. His eyes go wide.  _ Oh hell.  _

“Conley,” he says and something in me freezes at his tone. “Did you just call me here because you missed me? Or is there actually a job?” There’s something strange in his voice. 

“No! I would never,  _ never _ , do that. I swear it on my mother’s grave.” I say, dead serious. I really wouldn’t, no matter how badly I wanted to see him again.

“You hated your mother,” he says, and he sounds so tired that my already broken heart breaks a little more.

“I did. But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have meaning. I’ll admit I missed you. Hell, you could even say I was looking for something I could justify calling you in on, but I would never fake a job.”  _ I couldn’t do that to you,  _ I add silently.

“Let’s just go,” he says, turning away and heading down the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated and if you see any typos or grammatical errors, let me know so I can fix them!


	4. Chapter 4

Once we’re in the SUV, things are mercifully less awkward. This is an old routine of ours, one long ingrained into muscle memory. Me in the driver's seat, him reclined on the passenger side, classical music playing softly between us and a comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional commentary on my driving skills, which admittedly leans more towards “fast and furious” than “careful and law abiding”.

While I navigate the Brooklyn traffic, I let my thoughts drift off to one of my favorite memories of us like this, back when he was a field agent and I was a consultant for the FBI. We weren’t assigned together often because our lines of work usually ran down different tracks, with him operating largely undercover overseas and me doing mostly counterintelligence work in the homeland. We’d just finished a big job, bringing down a white supremist terror cell and after splitting ways with the strike team, we’d gotten in my car together to catch up while we made our way back to be debriefed. I’d taken the long route on purpose and we talked and laughed for nearly two hours as we inched our way through a traffic jam. Our handlers hadn’t been happy when we got back, but they couldn't do much because it was down to traffic.

It was the second to last time we’d operated as a fully sanctioned team, before he lost his leg and got moved to desk work and it had been heaven. I loved him, even back then, and those precious hours in that car had kept me going for a long time before the darkness overwhelmed me. And even then, after the pressure got to be too much and I swallowed a bottle of Ambien down with whiskey as a chaser, I’d thought of that moment as I waited for my heart to stop. 

I’d woken up in the hospital with him right next to me looking like he hadn’t slept in days because he hadn’t and the look on his face when I said his name convinced me not to ever try it again. That conviction has faded now, but it’s still there, convincing me to hold out so I can see him just one more time. He doesn’t know it, but he saves my life every day, every time I wonder what it would be like to finally succumb to that darkness. And now, sitting here next to him, I know that I couldn’t stop seeing him. If I had to cease all contact permanently, I would finally kill myself, in a more certain way this time. But that won’t happen. If it came down to it, I’ll tell him the truth and he’ll save me. He’ll always save me, whether it's pulling me out of the rubble of a building or picking up the phone at 3 in the morning. 

I look over at him and with the streetlights illuminating his face, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Every time I see him, he seems to get more beautiful. Now, his eyes are half closed, lips slightly parted, and one finger moving slightly to the rhythm of the Mozart. He’s a damn painting and he somehow doesn’t know it. He steals my breath right away like this, multi-colored light highlighting his cheekbones, the curve of his temple, and casting a faint shadow between his lips. 

He turns his head to look at me. 

“Eyes on the road, Conley. You missed your turn,” he says, and his voice has a rough quality to it that makes something in my stomach twist.

I glance up at the road signs. “No, I haven’t.” 

“Yeah, you have. If you made that turn back there, we’d be there at least 10 minutes sooner than this route.”

“If I take that turn, I have to go through the Midtown Tunnel. I-” my voice catches just a little,  _ damn it _ . “I can’t do that.” He gives me a worried look. 

“Conley, what happened?” he asks. He has a right to know. I should have told him a long time ago. I don’t want to though. 

“Nothing. I just don’t like the tunnels.”

“Conley,” he says, gentle and insistent. I never learned how to say no to him when he uses that voice.

“About 4 months ago, I got stuck in one and then there was a shootout. A couple mafia guys had some demands and rigged the tunnel with explosives before blocking it off. Thought the NYPD would be more amiable if they had a few dozen hostages. They weren't. Whoever was heading their task force wasn’t one for negotiation and sent several officers in, guns blazing. They set off one of the explosives, the one right next to my car, burying it in rubble, but not before stray fire hit me. I’m fine now, but I don’t like the tunnels.”

“Oh,” he says, and I know it’s all he can say. What do you say to that? He rests a gentle hand on my knee and I’m tired all of the sudden. Michael might be right about being too old for this. I’m younger than him, but nights like this make me want to retire. I just want to go home, call the police instead and let them deal with the whole thing. I want to take Michael home with me, make us tea, and stay up all night talking about nothing, like the old times. The old times weren't even that long ago, just before the last job we did together but it all feels impossible now. At least, mostly impossible. Right now, I feel like I could tell him anything. But I don’t. And I don’t think I ever will. Some secrets just need to be taken to the grave and how I feel about him is one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated and if you see any typos or grammatical errors, let me know so I can fix them!

**Author's Note:**

> I will attempt to update every week on Saturday but it might not always happen.


End file.
